Page 97 of Sinful Obsession
But I knew he’d been working in the shadows, neutralizing threats like Luca and Artem, ensuring my victory.
He wanted me to feel the full weight of my accomplishment, and I did.
“You did it,” he said, leaning against the sink, his smile genuine. “The Grayson boss. I knew you could.”
I stepped closer, the towel slipping slightly, my heart lighter than it had been in years. “You helped, didn’t you? you cleared the way.”
He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Maybe I made a few calls. But this was your win, Charlotte. Always was.”
Cassian’s blue eyes raked over me from head to toe.
I pretended not to notice, but the heat of his gaze was impossible to ignore, igniting a spark low in my belly.
He shed his black shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest, scarred from battles I could only imagine, then his pants, leaving him stark naked.
My eyes betrayed me, flickering to his hardened length, a pulse of desire throbbing through me despite my resolve to stay distant.
I turned back to the shower, letting the water mask my flush, but my body hummed with awareness.
He stepped under the spray, the water glistening on his skin, and wrapped a strong arm around my waist, pulling me against him.
His lips crashed into mine, the kiss hungry and desperate, the taste of him—mint and something uniquely Cassian—flooding my senses.
I hadn’t kissed a man in six years, hadn’t felt this kind of fire, and I returned the kiss with a burning intensity that surprised me, my hands tangling in his wet hair.
The shower rained over us, warm, mingling with the heat of our bodies.
His hands roamed, squeezing my ass gently before trailing to the nape of my neck, his lips following, kissing the sensitive skin with a reverence that made my breath hitch.
He moved lower, his mouth brushing the faded scars on my chest—marks from a life I’d fought to survive—each kiss tender, worshipful.
His lips traveled to my navel, leaving a trail of fire, and I trembled, the water amplifying every sensation.
Cassian guided me to a small wooden stool in the corner of the shower, its smooth surface cool against my skin as he sat me down.
He knelt before me, parting my thighs with gentle hands, his eyes locking with mine for a moment, dark with desire.
Then he buried his face between my legs, his tongue finding me with a slow, deliberate stroke.
A loud moan escaped my lips, unbidden, as he sucked with fierce intensity, his teeth grazing my sensitive flesh, sending shocks of pleasure through me.
My hands gripped the edge of the stool, my body arching as he explored me, each movement deliberate, drawing out every gasp, every shudder.
The shower’s rhythm mingled with my moans, the steam wrapping us in a private world where nothing else existed.
He rose, his arousal evident, and positioned himself before me, his length level with my mouth.
I didn’t need words—my desire took over, and I took him in, my lips closing around him as he let out a guttural growl. “Damn, Charlotte,” he rasped, his voice thick with need.
My hands wrapped around the base of his shaft, stroking as I sucked, slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of him, the mix of water and salt.
His hands cradled the back of my head, supporting me, his fingers threading through my wet hair as I moaned softly, the vibrations drawing deeper groans from him.
I teased him, alternating between slow licks and deeper pulls, my eyes flicking up to meet his, dark with lust.
Just as I felt him tense, nearing the edge, I paused, pulling back to look at him, my breath ragged.
He bent down, lifting my chin gently, his eyes burning with something deeper than desire. “I love you so much, Charlotte,” he said, his voice raw, almost breaking.
